Breathe
by Decoded3
Summary: For once Peter's the one acting careless. Will his blunders have worse results than he can imagine?
1. Rocks

**Hey fans! (l Just wanted to let you know that smiley face I just made accidentally is my too cool for you face. xD OH! And I wrote a new story. This way you don't have to burn me at the stake. Great isn't it? Please review! I love them, I crave them, I can't think of anything else to type and we're rolling...We're rolling!

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Neal ran as fast as he could. He was normally faster than Peter Burke, but not in _this_ territory... They were much farther out in the country than normal, but not too far from New York as it was dangerous for a convicted felon to be too far from the city with only his handler. Said handler was dragging his poor consultant through the fall country side like there was no tomorrow.

Neal loved nature, but not under these circumstances. He _loved_ the city. It was his entire life. Running by a river with slippery rocks did not appeal to him in the least and he'd tried to talk Peter out of the asinine idea, but the agent would have none of it! They had almost caught the 'slippery bastard'. Neal had argued that personally, he thought the stones were much more...slick than the man they were currently chasing.

As Neal watched the white water next to them anxiety shivered through him, grabbing his heart in icy claws. This was the 'short cut' as Peter had called it and so far so good. It looked like they would catch up with the dirty under cover agent soon, but that didn't make Neal any less uneasy. If either of them fell in...there was almost no chance of...He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. Thinking that way would only make this harder.

He was only ten steps behind Peter, but he was used to the FBI looking at _his_ back, not the other way around. It was unsettling.

Peter's bulletproof vest was hidden under his FBI jacket, gun drawn. The rocks were getting slipperier by the passing second. Neal tripped forward suddenly and almost cried out as he regained his balance. Almost.

"Peterrrr!" Neal half whined, half shouted. Peter didn't answer, but Neal was positive he'd been heard so he simply chose to continue.

"Maybe we should circle around? Catching him would be that much easier if we don't kill ourselves in the process."

The FBI agent seemed to be in his element at that moment. He called back to Neal and Neal could tell he wasn't too pleased to be interrupted for the second time.

"I told you before Neal, this is the fastest way to cut off Stanley, if you wanna wait behind and watch, go ahead!" Peter returned in obvious annoyance.

Neal considered the facts. Rushing water. Slippery rocks. Cold. Drowning. All of which equaled BAD in his book. Nevertheless he sighed. Peter was actually the one throwing himself to the wind this time? Maybe he'd hit his head falling out of bed this morning. Despite Neal's' constant warning the other man only quickened his pace.

Wind whipped Neal's face mercilessly and his lack of a suitable jacket only made him colder. Suddenly Stanley moved into view between the trees up ahead to their right. The balding, stocky man was headed through the shrubbery straight for them. Apparently the man was unaware of their presence. Neal watched as Peter moved into a full out sprint and Neal only just managed to keep 15 feet behind the FBI agent. That's when Peter got cocky. He thought they had him and decided to give away their position.  
"FBI! Freeze!"

Neal thought that maybe, with the weather being what it was, that wouldn't be too hard for the criminal, but as usual the bad guy just _had_ to run. Stanley proceeded to freeze... for about 2 milliseconds before turning on his heel and jumping in the opposite direction.

_Really Peter? Why did you have to shout 'freeze'? Seriously, as a con artists I should know how much easier it is to just sneak up behind someone and take them by surprise. You don't actually have to play fair._

That was when Peter cried out.

Neal's head shot up, wide eyed with fear to see Peter tumbling into the rapids.

"Crap!" Neal yelled. "Crap. Crap. crap. crap. crap-", He knew this would happen! He'd _told_ him! He'd told him countless times! _Dammit! _Peter emerged for a split second...He was already at least 10 feet down the river from the current. "crap. crap. crap. CRAP!" Peter was in there and he needed help...

Without a second thought or any form of hesitation Neal ran straight for the edge of the rocks and launched himself into the churning water. It was freezing.

The first thing he noticed was the absolute, numbing cold that enveloped him like a blanket. The second thing he noticed was that it was deep. At least 14 feet. He didn't dwell on it for long though as he was thrown in circles and head over heels by the sheer force of the waves. He was at their mercy, nothing but bubbles surrounded him the soundless environment and he desperately held his breath. The water's numbing affect reached to his very bones. It was better than the cold.

He unexpectedly burst through the surface and gasped for air, wind brutally hitting him the face and chilling him to the core, only to have more water forced through down his throat. The con artist eyes cast a longing glance at the bank not too far away.

He could have gone...He really could have, but no...That wouldn't help Peter. He had to get get him back. Coughing and spluttering, Neal was forced under once more and he struggled to reach the air above. Finally the water parted just enough for him the float to the top of the waves and he took a huge mouthful of air in gratefully.

For a brief moment he saw Peter no more than 3 feet to his left. Peter was struggling to stay above water, but it looked like something was dragging the agent down. His time gap was short and Neal knew it. In a blinding rush of adrenaline Neal lunged at Peter as his handler went under, diving after him. The water was surprisingly clear as he could mostly make out Peter's face. It was covered in shock at Neal's abrupt appearance. Obviously wondering how smart Neal could really be if he'd jumped in after him.

Neal was clinging to Peter's suit like it was his lifeline. In this case it sort of was. If there was any hope to get Peter out of there they'd have to stay together, but why was the soaked FBI agent not moving with the waves?

Peter shook his head frantically, attempting to catch Neal's attention and he began thrashing his legs back and forth. Neal glanced down, still grabbing Peter's heavy torso for leverage. His heavy bulletproof vest was pulling him down and he couldn't swim up. Neal was running out of air, but Peter had been down there longer than he had. Neal looked Peter in the eyes and held his hand, the one clutching Peter's wrist, up to eye level.

_DON'T let go of my hand_. His eyes commanded.

Neal waited until Peter nodded to show he understood.

The con artist was losing air. And fast. As quickly as he could Neal yanked one side of Peter's FBI windbreaker from his back and started to remove the vest. His fingers were numb and fumbled with the fabric frantically. At one point he tore the strip away from the vest entirely. Not surprisingly Neal managed to remove the straps in less than a minute, but he could tell Peter was running out of breath as bubbles started to leave his mentor's mouth.

_Shit_.

Quickly Neal leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Peter's and breathed the last of his air supply into Peter's lungs. Peter perked up and blinked, causing Neal to smile a little as he watched the FBI agent begin to shrug off the vest. In order to do so he did something that Neal had specifically commanded the agent not to do.

He let go of Neal's hand. Neal lost sight of Peter completely in the span of 3 seconds, dirt from the floor of the river was kicked up as he was thrown backwards violently. His head crashed brutally into something. HARD. Hard enough for the force of the impact to crumble whatever his body had come into contact with. Hard enough for him to hear the sharp sound through the surrounding daze and water pressure as he slumped toward the bottom. The heavy remains of the object crushed his lower torso and pushed him deeper into the sand. Black dots dominated his vision and threated to completely smother him.

Neal realized he wasn't really staring at anything. The water...was turning an interesting shade of red... Why wasn't he trying to reach the surface? His chest...it was screaming in pain from lack of air. His eyes drooped, but refused to slip shut for some reason, like he'd lost all control over his motionless body. He couldn't breathe...He couldn't breathe... The last of his precious air escaped his lungs and left his lips in silent acceptance.


	2. Goats

"NEAL!" Peter screamed as he broke through to the surface. He coughed and hacked out buckets of water it seemed, but heard nothing from his friend. Dammit! He just had to jump in after him hadn't he?

Peter Burke had surfaced and allowed the strong gust of a current to carry him to where the water had settled down a bit. He caught sight of Neal seconds before the con artist's body was tossed at frightening speed into a huge block of stone protruding from the river. The impact was so violent Peter could hear the resounding crack from above the water. He started swimming towards him as the prone form began to sink. A snake of Red liquid was twisting up from the con artist's body as he spiraled to the bottom of the clear lake.

The figure of the con artist was lying on his side, hidden by the cracked, broken sediment that had crashed over his broken body. He wasn't making an effort to get up...

None.

Peter didn't see any bubbles drifting to the surface as he cut through the water towards his friend. No bubbles meant no air, no oxygen. No oxygen meant no life. The FBI agent couldn't have covered distance faster if he'd had flippers. Neal couldn't have survived that..._No._

"NO!"

Peter gulped a few deep breaths of air and dove into the water. He swam as far as he could into the remarkably clear water until he arrived at the bottom where he was careful not to raise too much mud. The water was thick with blood. The clear, clean water was becoming contaminated by the gruesome red coloring revolved around his friend's torso.

Neal was in an awkward position, head and upper body floating upward with his waist acting as an anchor. His head was lying back, lips slightly parted. Neal's strong arms seemed to be weighted down as their fingertips skimmed the sand at his sides. The water was a dark, boiling shade of red.

Quickly, Peter moved closer and cupped Neal's face in his hands, forcing the drifting ex-con to look at him.

Bad move.

Peter couldn't move from the shock of seeing Neal's glowing blue eyes lifeless and empty. _NO!_ That seemed to be the only word Peter's stricken mind could process.

Neal's glazed eyes stared right through Peter, unseeing. The agent forced his mouth onto Neal's and tried breathing precious air into his consultant's lungs. Nothing. He didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't even blink.

Peter forced himself to tear away from his friend and swim to the surface for air. He didn't hesitate to dive back down and try to give his partner air, but again it failed. Peter swam toward the biggest slab of rock that was succeeding in crushing the life out of his partner, the blood in the water was staining Peter's clothes.

As a logical man, Peter knew that his idea wasn't safe. If this didn't work they were both stuck, but Neal was running out of time...

_Maybe his time was already run out,_ Peter thought. He shook his head violently. Neal had more lives than anyone he knew! He was like a black cat, unlucky, stealthy, smart and you could never get rid of them!...And Peter would never admit it, but he liked it that way.

He used his upper back and hunched underneath the heavy rock and began digging as fast as he could. Every second he was painfully aware of his partners limp form behind him. What if this didn't work? What if, even if he did manage to get Neal out of this he didn't make it? What if-

The rock shifted dramatically and Peter shoved his thoughts away and locked them in a box. It drifted upward at a 90 degree angle. Taking advantage of the situation he'd planned out Peter threw all of his weight against the offensive object and pushed hard. It slowly proceeded to tumble to river floor, out of their way, causing an ungodly amount of mud to mushroom up from the bottom of the water. Immediately, Peter swam through the muck to the ex-con's side, draped Neal's arm around his shoulders and kicked off from the floor.

The momentum didn't last long from Neal's obvious dead weight, but Peter sliced through the water as fast as he could. His chest ached from the lack of oxygen, but he needed to make it. Neal was...

Peter broke through to the surface and spluttered for air. Neal was dragging him down, but he laboriously swam to the shore, dragging the unconscious man after him...Neal was like a rag doll...He didn't gasp for air or start to breathe. He was simply...still.

Peter started to panic as he lowered his injured partner, no- friend onto the sandy bank. The amount of blood pouring from Neal's head was alarming and dangerous. Peter seriously hoped he didn't have any other unseen injuries because the head wound was certainly bad enough.

The way Neal's head had smacked back against that solid rock chilled Peter to the bone. All it took was one hit like that to kill a grown man...To kill- Red water ran down Neal's face as blood flowed from head. His head was lolling to the side, resting limply in the sand. Neal's sightless eyes we still only half opened and staring at nothing.

That rock...Neal could be...

"Neal!" Peter whispered urgently.

No response. No smart ass answer or relieving remarks. He shook Neal.

"NEAL!" The convict remained motionless. As his training had taught him Peter began performing CPR, breathing for his friend. He couldn't die...He couldn't die...He couldn't die...Not when-_ IT'S YOUR FAULT!_ Peter's mind screamed. In a moment of shock Peter realized the voice was right. It was every part his fault for not listening to his partner, his friend, for ignoring common sense. He made a _rookie_ mistake and got cocky. But Neal had saved his sorry ass, now it was time to return the favor. Or so Peter hoped. He continued the CPR, pinching closed Neal's nose as he forced air into Neal's motionless lungs.

Peter paused to push his ear to the other man's chest. No thub-a-lub, thub-a-lub sound from the organ was heard.

He pressed on for minutes before he stopped. Shaking Neal again to try and get a reaction Peter started yelling. It couldn't be too late.

"No Neal! I own you for 4 more years! Don't you dare pull a cheap ass move and bail out now! Neal!" Peter growled threateningly.

His expression of anger melted from the agent's face. There was nothing that could bring him back now.

Screaming wouldn't work...Peter knew it. Nothing would work, Neal was gone...

"NO! You will NOT die, Neal! God dammit Caffrey! WAKE UP!"

Peter beat his fists on Neal's chest and lowered his head so his forehead was resting against the man's torso.

This was _his_ fault. _All_ his fault. Neal was gone and it was because of his actions. Of all the ways to die...Neal had always wanted to go out with a bang doing something he loved or for someone he cared about. Who would have thought he'd die saving Peter Burke, the dumb ass who'd thrown Neal's ass in prison multiple times... It was so unfair! _All your fault...Everything...All your fault._

"Pet'r?"

The man could never shoot another smart ass comment his way. He would never dress like that damn cartoon cartoon character or mess with his hat. He couldn't argue with Peter over the difference between the primitive nature of beer and the more sophisticated taste of wine. Peter wouldn't ever need to shove his consultant's expensive designer shoes off his work desk.

"Pete..."

Neal couldn't steal toys out of his breakfast cereal. When had Neal managed to worm his way into his heart like this? When had Peter stopped caring about eating at the same breakfast table with a convicted felon? _NO!_ Neal was not just a convicted felon anymore...Not to Peter. When had he cared about whether or not Neal got sent back to jail? Neal wasn't going to come back to walk his dog or charm his wife...

"Wud you m'nd terr'bly getting off o' me?" A very weak Neal choked out.

Peter's head shot up at the speed of light. He stared at the person speaking in utter disbelief. There was no way...He was...Neal turned his head briefly to see around his shoulder blade and smirked. Apparently something was funny. Eye brow raised.

"Y'er gur'na gi' yerself wh'plash Pete..." Neal slurred.

As if those words broke some sort of spell Peter's silent tears started to fall. Neal had...His partner...Neal was okay. He was _okay._

"Neal..." Peter said, voice cracking.

Neal's eyebrows drew together in confusion, wondering what was wrong with the distraught agent.

"Peter are you-" A cry of pain cut off the rest of his sentence as Neal attempted to sit up.

He started to collapse back onto the bank, but Peter was there, clutching him, holding him close and hugging him tightly. Was Peter crying? Peter Burke? Neal took shallow breaths as his head continued to spin. Note to self: Moving sucked.

Suddenly a horrifying thought occured to him.

"Pet'r..." Neal paused to hack and cough painfully, he was tired. Losing the ability to keep his eyes open. Peter rubbed his back gently, still not letting his partner go.

"Pet'r...are you...O..kay?"

Neal's weak raspy voice seemed to almost scare the other man as he stared down at Neal. Neal's eyes were drooping shut.

"No, Neal...You gotta stay awake or I'm shoving your ass back in jail."

Neal flinched and his eyes closed completely. The comment stung. _Hurt was a more appropriate word,_ Neal thought. Why would he feel that way? After everything...So Peter really didn't care..._At least he was safe_.

The darkness was warm...Soft and quiet. It was beautiful, an escape from the pain erupting in his head. He wanted nothing more than to just bask in it. Sleep. Let go.  
A rather loud commanding shout burst through the silence as he heard,

"NEAL CAFFREY!"

Neal almost, almost, opened his eyes. He didn't, the warmth was too wondrous. He would have loved to stay...

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As soon as Peter saw the reaction flash across Neal's features Peter regretted the words leaving his mouth.

He hadn't meant that.

It was a reflex to use that as a scare tactic and right now...Neal was scaring Peter enough to make the older one want to piss his pants. He'd just gotten Neal back, he couldn't lose him! That head injury could not be safe to sleep with. Peter shook his partner.

"No, no buddy you need to wake up! Open your eyes buddy! _COME ON!_"

No response met the FBI agent other than Neal's head beginning to loll to the side and he began to panic again. He pressed his cold, shaking fingers to Neal's neck to find the man's pulse growing slower and weaker by the second. _No..._

"NEAL CAFFREY!" Peter demanded loudly, hoping that would elicit something...anything.

Neal didn't even twitch.

"STAY WITH ME! PLEASE!" He screamed at the limp form of the man in front of him.

"Dammit Pet'r...So f'cking lowd..." Neal complained. He attempted to push the FBI agent away from him unsuccessfully. Neal's eyes met Peter's, filled with annoyance.

"Neal?"  
Neal saw the hope in Peter's eyes and blinked. _Huh?_  
The confusion on his tired features seemed to bring out something in Peter's expression and he pulled Neal closer and muttered something sound like, "Neal. Thank GOD."

By that point there was sure to be someone out there looking for the two of them. Peter and Neal clutched each other for warmth and waited. Peter engaged Neal in conversation and continued to shake him awake multiple times. Sleeping for Neal was _not_ an option. Under the circumstances keeping Neal awake was not something that should have been hard to do...but Peter managed to keep his friend's eyes open with useless conversation and babble of anything until the paramedics arrived around 2 hours and 45 minutes later.

As the obnoxious, bright lights seared around the two of them the hospital helicopter occupants loaded Neal onto a stretcher and covered them both with heavy, soft blankets. The male paramedic gave Neal some painkillers until the ride to the hospital was officially over.

Before Neal fell into a deep, safe sleep Neal looked over at a relieved Peter quizzically as he was being checked out. For some reason Peter was holding his hand comfortingly. It didn't bother him, but he was seriously confused as to why on earth the FBI agent would want to have a 3 hour conversation about goats with him...

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**Sorry guys, but after all the suspense and everything I simply HAD to end it on a funny...xD **  
**I'm good with the word vomit thing... Serious stories suck for me to write sometimes and this didn't really have an exceptional plot, but hell I'm a 15 year old girl leave me alone! Ha~ Rate and review please? (; **


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